


Fresco

by Jjon Adams (Lanyonn)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, M/M, Master/Slave, Psychological, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanyonn/pseuds/Jjon%20Adams
Summary: It has been three months since Master Lecter bought Will at the slave auction but he still hasn’t had any use for him even though he often calls on the services of the other slaves he acquired before Will. On learning that his Master has brought home yet another slave, Will cannot take it anymore.





	Fresco

 

**Fresco**

**Chapter 1**

**The Slave**

 

Will knows that he has it much better than most people who end up in the slave market.

 

Actually, that is a gross understatement.

 

Will has it so good despite being a slave that any slave would _kill_ to be in his place. If no other slave, then Beverly definitely would. She tells him as much every time when he goes over to visit her.

 

Beverly was Will’s only friend while he lived under Trader Jack’s roof in the slave town. She had taken it upon herself to protect the half-dead, starved young boy who had been thrown onto the excuse of a bed next to her. Of course, that had been because of her misunderstanding that Will was still underage. She hadn’t changed much after Will had explained to her that he was safely over fourteen years old. He couldn’t tell her how old for certain but he had definitely lived for sixteen summers already, so he must be more.

 

“You actually have your own suite now,” Beverly says, as much in relief as in awe. “Are you sure there are no secret cameras through which your Master is filming you all the time or keeping a watch on you?” She glances over his shoulder towards the guard his Master has sent along with him. The man is armed but he stands a safe distance away, neither prying on Will and Beverly, nor hurrying Will through his meeting. He seems oddly out of place in Jack’s whorehouse-slash-slave-home and is attracting quite a bit of attention but he bears it all well. Maybe later Will will dare to ask his name and thank him even. This is Will’s life now – he thanks his captors for treating him like a human being.

 

“I checked, of course – it was the first thing I did after I moved in there – I still keep checking because it makes me paranoid at times,” Will replies. “I keep worrying there is a catch to it all.”

 

That was part of the reason why he had come to visit Beverly. Will wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was rather sharp once he was fed, clean and healthy. Most days, he could take care of himself. Life had done him a bad turn and so he had ended up where he had. And no matter what Beverly believed, Will could protect her as much as she protected him. However, Will was still a novice in the world of slaves and Beverly had been sold into this trade when she wasn’t even five. She had more experience.

 

So maybe she could tell him what it was that his Master wanted from him.

 

Because it has been three months since Master Lecter had bought him from Jack for an extravagant bid that had been the talk of the town for weeks, but he hadn’t so much as touched a hair on Will’s head. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had examined Will the night after he had bought him but it had been very clinical – apparently, his Master was a renowned doctor – and he had drawn a strict schedule to be followed so that Will recover his health.

 

Will didn’t need a schedule. He was quite ready to take advantage of good food and large grounds coupled with fresh air and a swimming pool. He was in the pink of health in barely a month. Of course, he had suspected that once he was hale and hearty, Master Lecter would find a use for him, as it was his due since he had bought Will for such a large price. Will was no slave – not _really_ , he hadn’t come here voluntarily, he had been abducted and sold into it much against his will – but if Master Lecter’s kindness came with a price, then Will would pay the price howsoever he wanted. It might make him a whore but in Will’s mind, that was a slight step up from being a slave. It made it a little better in his mind if he _agreed_ to do as his Master bid him as a trade off.

 

However, he hadn’t seen anything more of Master Lecter after two months of being bought.

 

He had met his other slaves though: Bedelia, a dazzlingly beautiful blonde who only looked at him in contempt and rarely had a kind word for him. Chiyoh, a Japanese girl, who he couldn’t figure out if she was older or younger than him. She was kinder to him than Bedelia, but maybe it was just what Will assumed because she had been the one who oversaw his improvement after he was bought. Master Lecter had specifically instructed her to take care of Will. She taught him how to read better, taught him how to eat and dress like a gentleman. She told him about the paintings around the manor sometimes, told him about news from the town and abroad, and made him more civilised in general.

 

There was another man, much bigger than Will, bigger than Hannibal even. Chiyoh had told him his name was Francis but Will had never spoken to him. He flinched when spoken to and walked away. Will did not want to make enemies so he did not try harder.

 

And finally, there was, in a locked room, a man Will had never seen and never heard about except in passing. Chiyoh had said it wasn’t his place to ask such questions when he had enquired about him. She had then launched into a detailed explanation of the rules he must follow as a slave. That was the only moment that Will had really shocked her by his ignorance of how a slave should behave. It wasn’t his fault – he didn’t give the slightest damn about them before. And it wasn’t as if Master Lecter was ever around so he did as he wished, having no need to _act_ like a slave.

 

When he first got to the mansion, Will had been assigned his own room, his own guard, a credit card and even a car for his own use (as long as he had his guard with him when he used it). He was free to move about the palatial manor house and the grounds as he wished. There was, of course, the slave monitoring chip embedded in the skin underneath his forearm, but Will wasn’t so stupid as to pry out that chip from his body or try and run away. He knew that Master Lecter had an extensive security system in place. Moreover, if he ran away and was caught without Lecter’s chip in his arm, he would be up for grabs again.

 

That was the first rule of being a slave – _once a slave, always a slave_.

 

Two months after Will had been staying in his new home, he had finally run into his Master in the library one day. It wasn’t as if he had developed a taste for reading but Chiyoh’s lessons had left him painfully aware of his ignorance and since there seemed nothing else to do, Will spent the rainy days trying to feed his brain. He wasn’t dull. In fact, he had picked up reading and writing quite fast. Now he just had to work in order to put it to good use.

 

Master Lecter had looked the same as he had on the night he had bought Will. He was taller than Will by over a head and dressed immaculately in a three piece suit. Today it was a charming navy and grey. He was powerfully built but he looked gentle and wise. He didn’t look like a man who abused the power he had – or maybe Will just thought so because he had bought Will for a fortune and demanded nothing from him yet.

 

On the other hand, Will was conscious of the fact that he was no longer an almost-emaciated, vulnerable-looking boy with only a few rags to his name. His face was clean shaven and hair neatly combed even if was a little long. He had discarded his suit jacket when he sat down with his book but he was still dressed in fine clothes fit for royalty.

 

For a moment, he had met Master Lecter almost like an equal.

 

“You look good,” his Master had told him, made some small conversation about the book Will was reading and then left him alone.

 

It had been a disappointingly short encounter.

 

After that, it had been yet another fortnight before he had seen him again. This time the Master had specifically requested Will’s company for dinner – just the two of them. Ashamed as he was to admit it, Will had presumed that more would come afterwards and prepared himself for the occasion. However, Lecter had only bid him a polite good night after the dessert and coffee and walked him back to his room.

 

The next day, Chiyoh had told him he was to have his own set of rooms in the East Wing of the manor – the one towards the back which looked out towards the lake. It was further away from the one where Lecter stayed and entertained his guests and thus quieter and more private. He was to have his own bedroom, drawing room, dining hall and kitchen and a staff of two to serve him exclusively.

 

Will could almost imagine that he was free – almost.

 

He had spent a long time searching the rooms for any traces of monitoring devices meant to spy on him. He knew about them, of course, he knew how to check. He had unrestricted access to the internet if he wanted more clues. There had to be a catch to the whole thing, he had thought. There was no reason why a Master should treat a slave like – like he was a human being. It was commoner to treat a stray dog better than a slave would be treated.

 

But Will knew that Master Lecter wasn’t crass by nature. The other slaves in the house lead lives that were respectable enough. They had their own rooms and more rules than Will did. He did not know what was up with the man who was locked up but he knew that Bedelia lived in absolute luxury. Chiyoh wasn’t given to luxury but she seemed satisfied with her conditions. Francis showed no outward signs of being abused. Chiyoh had mentioned that his reticence was his nature – Master Lecter had bought him like that.

 

However, Will knew, that at least two nights in a week – usually, more – Hannibal required the services of one or more of his slaves. Some mornings, Chiyoh had been so worn out that she hadn’t come to check on him like it was her routine. Bedelia would disappear for days at times and Master Lecter won’t be around either, and Will could infer that it was with a certain purpose. Chiyoh never spoke about whatever transpired between her and Master Lecter and Will knew better than to ask. He was learning the manners of a slave.

 

And now, since he had been living in his own set of rooms, Will had alternately grown paranoid and complacent.

 

He had needed to talk to Beverly before he went completely crazy.

 

“I can’t help imagining that it will lead to something really big and horrible – this is all too good to be true,” Will insisted.

 

Beverly considered it, gave Will a sympathetic smile. “I can understand, good things don’t just happen to people like us, do they?” she said, took one of Will’s hands in her own. “What do your instincts say? Do you think the old witch is just fattening you up before he tosses you into the boiling pot and eats you?”

 

Will laughs at the image of Master Lecter being an old witch.

 

“He was – he was _nice_ to me. That time when we had dinner together. He is charming, witty and it isn’t phony like it is with these rich people who buy slaves just to abuse them. You know how they usually are. We had an actual conversation. He listened to what I had to say. He told me interesting bits of information. I’m far from educated and he is a _doctor._ But I didn’t even feel the differences between us. It wasn’t because of anything I did, of course. I was worried what I would ever say to him but he managed to get me comfortable and feel like I was one of his kind. It was all just small talk really, nothing big. But it was warm and...” _Intimate._ Will could almost have pretended that they were lovers and not Master and slave if Master Lecter had called upon his services tonight.

 

Beverly reads him like an open book.

 

“Maybe that is what he wants,” she suggests, holding onto his hand tightly. “He wants interesting dinner company and he is not tasteless enough to ruin it with sex – whatever his kinks are.”

 

Will gives Beverly a dubious look. “He came to a slave auction and bid a fortune on ‘interesting dinner company’? That kind of a money could have bought him a small country.”

 

Beverly grins. “You said it yourself. He’s unlike any douche bag that comes here. You’re worth a small country, Will, that’s a step up in life, eh?”

 

At least the first part of it was true.

 

Beverly tells him to be on his guard nonetheless. He cannot be too easy and trusting even if everything is dreamily good for him right now. Does she notice that Will was a little upset by the idea that Master Lecter _never_ meant to use him as anything more than dinner conversation partner?

 

Later, Will stands in front of the big mirror in his bathroom, staring at his naked reflection.

 

Has fine food and clothing and a roof over his head really made him so servile and pitiful that he is actually upset by the fact that his benefactor doesn’t intend to fuck him? Will isn’t even gay – or didn’t think he leaned one way more than the other. Most of his life has been about escaping trouble and getting food. He remembers furtive fumbling with a mate of his back when he still lived in the orphanage. After that, he has had a few encounters with girls – nothing to think about and he doesn’t even recall their faces because it was the result of letting loose a little, and just wanting to touch warm skin.

 

He has never particularly thought about standing naked in front of a man – naked as he is right now, his body still wet from his perfumed bubble bath.

 

He only needs to shave once a week and his face is smooth and pale right now, not as smooth as a girl’s but the dim lights of the bathroom throw the harsher angles of his masculine face into a softer tone. His curls are long – they fall beneath his ear and cover the back of his long neck. His throat isn’t delicate but his shoulders are nowhere as broad as a full grown man’s. The outline of his bones visible under the skin is far stronger than a girl’s. His body is skinny, his limbs lanky. There’s a fine dusting of pubic hair curving up towards his stomach. His skin is marred more by scars than body hair. His stomach, butt, legs and thighs are somewhat more muscular than his arms and shoulders, and Will figures it must be because he walks so much. It makes him feel even more unattractive than he is feeling already. He has seen Francis work in the garden half-naked: broad, thick shoulders tapering down to a trim narrow waist, arms thicker than Will’s thighs. If Master Lecter’s interests lean anywhere towards _that,_ then it is quite apparent why he hasn’t called on Will’s services yet.

 

Why buy Will if he found him unattractive in the first place, then? His body was bare and naked, completely on display when Master Lecter bid on him. He knew _exactly_ what he was getting.

 

He remembers that one of the options Beverly had suggested was that Lecter must just be bidding his time. He might be an actual gentleman in the sense that he is trying to let Will get used to his new ‘home’ and maybe he just wants to treat him real ‘nice’ before he asks him to take his clothes off. After all, whatever he saw in Will made him part with a good sum of his money – he probably wants to play nice and fancy with Will, make the novelty of having a brand new slave last long. That had seemed like a plausible explanation.

 

Will is disgusted with himself for thinking that his body lacks something because he hasn’t been treated like a bought whore. No, that is only half the reason why he is disgusted.

 

The other half that makes Will loathe himself is the fact that he has actually been _looking forward_ to Master Lecter treating him like a whore.

 

He isn’t going to be stupid like this, Will decides as he falls into bed that night. He needs to be alert in case this is an elaborate ruse of some sort – he could end up in some horrible scenario yet. And if it isn’t so, Will should be grateful that someone has decided to treat him with some modicum of respect for the first time in his life. Master Lecter could easily have had him fucked by a pack of actual dogs or shoved a cattle prod up his ass because he’d be amused by his screams. He has heard even worse tales in the gloom of the slave market. Instead, all his Master does is keep him respectably in a house, keep tabs on his whereabouts and talk to him like a civilised person over dinner.

 

 _A pretty thing like you, you is going to have it really hard,_ he hears Jack’s voice in his head as he dozes off. _I won’t piss off my Master if I was you._

 

And just when he is getting used to the idea that indeed, he has to be grateful for his situation and _not_ make it worse, Chiyoh introduces him to the new slave Master Lecter bought last week. She is called Alana and even Will goes a little weak in his knees when she smiles at him. She looks too thin and tired but she is still the most beautiful girl Will has ever seen in his life. They exchange only a few words during that first meeting but she quietly murmurs that she couldn’t have done better than Master Lecter. She looks at Will for confirmation and Will’s throat is as dry as sandpaper as he agrees.

 

Will is shaking when he returns to his rooms that night.

 

He cannot eat and is too restless to sit still. So instead, he paces his room. Then he goes out and walks around the grounds. It is a full moon night but it is cold out during nights now. His face and fingers and toes are chilled to the bone by the time he enters the warmth of the house again.

 

However, he does not walk back towards his own rooms once inside.

 

Will might never have been there but he knows where Master Lecter’s rooms are. He has wandered around the whole place enough times now to know that. Hell, he has even thoughtfully – somewhat longingly – looked up towards those particular set of windows when he wondered why he had been brought here in the first place.

 

But he has never _dared_ to walk in the direction of those rooms.

 

It is not only highly impertinent but equally dangerous.

 

A part of Will’s brain is outraged as he walks up the stairs towards Master Lecter’s room. He has better survival skills than this. This isn’t just idiotic, it is suicidal. Will can jump out of the casement window at the landing right now and make it faster.

 

But the major part of him, the one that controls his body, steers him forward until he is standing in front of Master Lecter’s rooms, heart thudding wildly against his chest, blood pounding in his ear. His hands are actually shaking with a medley of emotions he is far too gone to name. It is a wonder he is able to get them to knock on the door at all.

 

“Will,” Master Lecter is visibly surprised when he opens the door. Will feels some sort of perverse pleasure at getting that reaction from him. He is pathetic beyond salvation. “Is something wrong?”

 

 _You bought another slave,_ thinks Will. But that isn’t exactly it. Will cannot dictate to his Master how many slaves he can or cannot keep and that’s not what he is trying to do here.

 

“What’s wrong with me?” he blurts out instead, burning red in mortification and now sorely regretting coming here at all. He isn’t worried for his life. What he realises is that he might actually not want to hear the answer to this question. He was abandoned by his mother at the door of an orphanage. No one wanted him there, either, not really. All his life, Will has been unwanted, unneeded. He had taken it as his status quo. The men who had abducted and sold him to Jack might have gotten a few coins in exchange but the truth was Jack didn’t want him there either. He was scrawny and ill tempered and would rather pass out from beatings than let a filthy man fuck him. And there weren’t a lot of them who wanted to fuck him in the first place – just sick, dirty perverts, who held him down and he bit and spit and pissed on them before they got any further. Beverly had been Jack’s favourite – she had used this advantage to protect him before he got himself killed or forced into submission with heroin.

 

And then, just when things were precarious, this stranger had come out of nowhere and bought him for a price that had turned heads and been the talk of the town for weeks – probably was going to stay a rarity for years to come. Will wasn’t completely dumb. Every time he left the security of his Master’s grounds, people were eager to get a glimpse of the slave who had been sold for such an unbelievable amount. He was pleasant to look at but he was no beauty like Bedelia or even Alana. His body might be young but it had accumulated only scars from wounds inflicted on him over the years – punishments, fights, struggles: Will’s life had only consisted of wrestling with circumstances, literally and metaphorically.

 

He was only just beginning to teach himself to read properly, learn to appreciate the better things in life – and it was only possible for him because his Master wanted him to do so.

 

It was unimaginable that he wanted nothing in return.

 

Was Will truly so undesirable that someone could do him a kind turn and – and not _want_ anything from him in exchange?  

 

Master Lecter closes the door and brings him inside. He tells him everything is alright, checks his pulse and his eyes. Will must look like a real lunatic – waking him up in the middle of night in such hysteria.

 

“Here, have some brandy,” Master Lecter says, pours him some of the red liquid from a snifter and hands him the glass. He makes sure that Will has swallowed at least some before setting it down.

 

Will’s embarrassment at his actions only grows as he flushes down to his very _toes._

 

“Do you feel calmer, Will?” his Master asks in a kind voice, and with a jolt, Will realises that he is holding onto Master Lecter’s hands as if his life depends on it. He wills himself to loosen the hold.

 

“I am sorry,” Will stutters out, the utter foolishness of his actions hitting him in full force. “I-I’ve been most...” He stares at the ground in shame, finding no words to describe his impudence. He had a _good_ life here – caged, yet better than _anything_ he had ever had. Yet, he had to go and _destroy_ everything. That was probably why Will never had anything good before – he probably would just blow it up into pieces.

 

“You were excited,” Master Lecter cuts through his thoughts, touches his face and makes Will look at him. “Something bothered you – or did you see something that upset you? Be honest with me, Will, you have nothing to fear from me.”

 

His Master’s expression matches the words but suddenly, Will isn’t sure of it anymore. _Good things don’t just happen to people like us_ , Beverly always said. She wasn’t pessimistic and he never saw _her_ be hysterical even though her life was hard. She did not sugar coat anything but she wasn’t given to exaggerations either. _Good things don’t just happen to us._

 

And yet.

 

“I saw...” Will finally looks at Lecter, looks him right in the eye. It is a grave insolence and while he has hardly observed any of the other slaves interact with the Master, he is suddenly sure that none of _them_ ever look Master Lecter in the eye. They don’t sit in front of the Master as equals and they certainly do not approach his sleeping quarters in the middle of the night of their own volition.

 

Will has broken every rule that was keeping him alive and well fed in this big house here in the first place.

 

“Yes?” His Master encourages him, seemingly unaware of the cold fear and trepidation now replacing the sheer humiliation of Will’s situation.

 

Cold sweat breaks over the back of Will’s neck as he sits frozen in his seat, staring into Master Lecter’s dark eyes. They are a translucent brown in the firelight but that is not all – there is red at the rims and there’s red blended into the inconspicuous brown.

 

Hannibal Lecter is looking at Will with more than concern and sympathy. He is looking at Will with a predator’s gaze – a predator who is waiting for his prey to realise that he has fallen right into the trap.

 

And the rising panic in Will’s eyes is the right answer to it.

 

Master Lecter brings up Will’s clammy hand to his lips, opens his fingers and kisses his palm.

 

“Poor Will,” he says, lets Will’s limp hand fall back into his lap. Will is paralysed with fear of what he knows not. He cannot move and he cannot tear his gaze away from Master Lecter’s. For that alone, any Master would be within his rights to punish him by breaking his arm or burning him with hot coals. “I expected a feisty one like you would hold out much longer. But you aren’t as proud as Jack promised, are you? It has only been three months, but here you come, begging me to break you. Your dear friend Beverly warned you to be careful, and she was convinced that you would hold out for a long time. Did she not advice you patience? I admit I am a man who likes waiting but I wondered what you would do if you found your novelty had been worn out? Was it Alana then? Was jealousy your undoing?”

 

Will feels sick. Oh, he has been a fool – a fool of first order! But he feels sick and hot and finally snaps back his eyes to the floor, everything crashing down upon him and making sense in that instance.

 

 _Ye are too proud for your own good,_ Jack had always said after he caused trouble. _You have no use for me. You’ll only be of use to special customers who want them proud like you._

 

It had all been some sort of sick game. He had sometimes confided in Beverly about his old life – had often told her she was his only friend in life. Beverly knew how alone and unloved he was and Will had presumed she was the same. It wasn’t necessarily that Beverly had betrayed him. But she could tell Jack things without meaning to hurt Will. Or maybe the world really was so wicked that even Beverly had proved to be a false friend.

 

It wasn’t often that a gentleman had more than one slave. Buying a new slave usually implied that the old one had had an ‘accident’ and was hence, useless. But Lecter’s slaves were all functional, all under his control, all willingly chained to him.

 

“You’re a beautiful boy, Will. I took to you the first time I saw you – fighting off customers in that little den of Jack’s,” Lecter lifts a few strands of his hair and Will’s fear spikes up. “Such a scrawny little boy, and yet such spirit. How could I not want to own you?”

 

Will thinks of the clothes he is wearing, the bed he has been sleeping in, the food he has been eating, the books he had been trying to read, always thinking that he finally had a good life – and it was all, _all_ a sick, sick game.

 

“You’re still the stuff of rumours and gossips, no slave ever cost as much as you did.”

 

Oh, didn’t Will know! He knew it bitterly and the taste of it burns his throat in agonising shame.

 

Master Lecter picks up the glass of brandy Will has just drunk from and takes a sip.

 

“A slave as costly as you, Will, surely, you’re going to prove your worth to me,” he says and takes hold of Will’s chin, tilting up his face so that he is looking right into Will’s teary eyes.

 

Hannibal smiles and bends down to kiss his forehead.

 

“You come to me of your own volition, Will,” he straightens up and brushes the hair back from Will’s forehead – it must have tickled his lips when he kissed his skin. “That is the first step and it was perfectly right. I trust you, Will. You will not disappoint me.”

 

Whatever makes up a person – the soul, the mind, the indefinable something that isn’t physical – breaks inside Will. It shatters into a billion pieces – as many pieces as Master Lecter must have paid to buy him. The shards tear at his heart, his throat, his gut, every inch of his skin and his eyes. Will might have been unwanted, unneeded all his life but he always had his pride. He fought _hard_ to live, and he was always determined to live no matter how bad things got. It was the only thing he had when he was half starved to death, filthy from sleeping on dirty pavements. It was the only thing that stood between him and the men who had beaten him and tried to rape him. When they had scrubbed him clean and blindfolded him, suspended his handcuffed wrists from a chain and pulled apart his legs to display his nakedness to prospective bidders, it was Will’s pride that had him twist and pull at his restraints until he made his wrists and ankles bleed and then they had to sedate him.

 

Until the last, Will had fought with the only weapon he had imagined no one could take away from him: his pride.

 

And Hannibal Lecter had proven him false – effectively stripping him of all pride with a simple, simple game: he had let him believe someone could actually care for him without wanting anything in return.

 

He had made Will want to be his slave.

 

Will gets up from the chair, tries to stand but falls hopelessly at Hannibal’s feet.

 

He has nothing left in him anymore.


End file.
